Catharsis
by I Fell Into Yesterday
Summary: Her parents were killed because of who she is. Her best friend died because she didn't interfere. She's losing herself in the war, and the only person that sticks around is the one she wishes would disappear. How far will she go to escape her pain and forget everything that happened? A dark fic of lust, hate, and weakness set in several short scenes. Written in 2nd person POV. R&R!
1. Run

**Summary: **Her parents were killed because of who she is. Her best friend died because she didn't interfere. She's losing herself in the war, and the only person that sticks around is the one she wishes would disappear. Now, the only thing she hates more than herself is him... and the toxic effect he has on her. How far will she go to escape her pain and forget everything that happened? A dark fic of lust, hate, and weakness set in several short scenes. Written in 2nd person POV.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the _Harry Potter_ series, or anything that J. K. Rowling does. I do, however, own the plot and the words I've written in this story... which means you aren't allowed to steal any of it to put into your own story. However, if for some reason you would like to use parts of it, just ask and we can work something out. Also, starting with Chapter 3, some of the chapter titles are borrowed from songs. I do not use direct lyrics from these songs (unless noted otherwise), but if you are familiar with them you may recognize some of their influence in the scene. I do not own any of those songs, and no infringement is intended.

This disclaimer applies to all chapters in this story, so I will not repeat it again.

**Story Warnings:** Some violence, harsh language, angst, humiliation and non-explicit sexual scenes.

Read at your own risk.

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**CATHARSIS**

Scene 1: Run

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You keep hearing them calling your name.

Taunting... Mocking... Begging... Leading you that much closer to the darkness that has slowly begun to consume your soul.

You were whole once, you remember, before your parents died. You were halfway innocent then, when your biggest troubles were homework and silly boys.

But that was before the war, before your best friend was murdered in front of your eyes.

That was before _him_.

Abruptly, you push back into your chair and rise from your seat, feeling dozens of eyes burn white-hot patches of shame into the flesh of your back. The roar in your ears is harsh and discordant, grating on your nerves and hammering into your psyche one simple command:

_Leave_.

Your spine stiffens as the whispers in your mind increase their volume, beating a furious rhythm in your brain. You crush your eyelids shut and try, in vain, to block them out. But they are relentless, dancing at a whirlwind tempo, and it drives you mad that you can't keep up.

You need to leave.

The pressure's thickening, suffocating you like a heavy wool cloak on a scorching summer day. Beads of sweat roll across your sculpted brow as little pools of moisture begin to gather at the small of your back. Your clammy hands fumble desperately with your mountain of books as you slowly but surely start to make your retreat. Not too fast, because then they will stare even more as you will surely trip in your haste.

_Make it stop_, you tell yourself. _Act like you don't care._

Each second stretches for a mile as you take one step backward, and another, until you are through the heavy wooden doors. As they groan shut behind you, you heave a sigh. _Alone at last_... but not for long. Relief never lasts long enough for you to relax. Your eyes, bloodshot and swollen, dart around nervously as you assess your surroundings. The halls are empty, but the pain is still there.

You abandon what is left of your pride as you begin sprinting through the halls. You will your legs to keep pumping a steady rhythm as they twitch and spasm from exhaustion. _Don't stop. Don't look back. _The sensible heels your mother bought you collide violently with the stone floor as you make your escape.

_Don't stop. Don't look back._

You run like you're dying, like the coward you are and the failure you're doomed to be.

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**A/N: **Some of the scenes are going to be short, like this one, but others will be longer. The length just depends on the scene and the mood. The chapters will not necessarily follow a traditional story structure.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	2. Dirt

**CATHARSIS**

Scene 2: Dirt

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. : . : . : .

"You can't hide from me, you know."

The low-spoken words tug you back to reality as you recognize the voice speaking from beside you. It's _him_.

You wearily close your eyes to block out the sun, and the sight of his face that is creeping into the corner of your vision. Deprived of sight, your other senses sharpen as the sounds around you come into sharper focus: the gentle lapping of the waves on the lake shore, distant chatter filtering through the castle grounds, and the late summer breeze sighing in your ears. You feel the air shift and hear the swish of his robes as he moves to kneel in front of you, and your eyes open in surprise. You blink as his pointed face swims in to focus.

"Look at the golden girl," he murmurs. "Look how far she has fallen."

You suck in your breath as he slowly reaches out to brush a lock of your limp hair from your flushed, sweat-slicked face. The gesture is intimate, an invasion of your personal space, and it may have been considered tender under different circumstances. For a moment you let yourself believe that he actually cares, that _anyone_ cares.

But you know better.

Your eyelids flutter pitifully as you struggle to shoot him a vicious glare, refusing to let yourself be carried away by a fleeting fantasy. You know it's not like him to offer comfort; he only ever offers pain.

He chuckles, apparently amused by the situation. "Is it too hard to believe that I can be civil for a change?" he asks, almost gently, but still with that distinctive edge that you have always hated him for. "Is it too hard to believe that I'm only human?"

_Yes_, you think, but you don't bother replying aloud, not wanting to waste what precious energy you have left. Not on _him_, anyway.

Your tongue is thick and heavy in your cotton-dry mouth as you ration your breaths, utterly exhausted from your flight from the castle. Dimly, you wonder how he managed to follow you all this way, but the thought disappears before you can dwell on it. You don't know how long you ran or even where you are, but it doesn't matter. At this point you can barely even remember your own name.

_Perfect._

His velvety-smooth voice tugs at your heartstrings as he leans close to whisper in your ear. "What, no witty retort this time?" he teases, shaking his head softly in mock disappointment. "I'm starting to wonder if I even recognize you anymore."

You don't answer; you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

He tilts his head as if to exaggerate that he is deep in thought, and smirks. "I reckon I might enjoy this side of you, though," he leers. "You're much less annoying and far easier to handle this way. I could do anything I wanted to you, now that you've been broken. I could even kill you right now, and you couldn't stop me."

A spark of emotion starts to flicker in your heart; you both know that he's right and you hate it.

The spark ignites into a burning flame as your blood starts to boil, anger battling with weariness for control. You imagine spitting curses at him, hammering spell after powerful spell deep into his despicable chest. You have so much hatred bottled up inside you, so much suppressed rage, that it is slowly beginning to consume you. You're not the shy, self-righteous girl you used to be; the war had made sure of that.

_He_ had made sure of that.

You envision him suffering as you suffered, making him bleed with the knowledge and pain of all the things that he's done to you over the years, and all of the things you know that he _will_ do.

"Get up. Off your knees," he orders suddenly, almost as if he senses your violent thoughts.

He moves so fast that you barely have time to register that he is already on his feet and grabbing you by the arm. He jerks you roughly into the air and you're surprised by how much strength is hidden in his thin frame.

You wobble unsteadily on your feet as you try your hardest to keep your balance; falling would only make things worse. You hate that you have become so weak.

"I said get _up_."

He whirls you around and slams your back against the tree that you had been leaning against. You wince as you feel the rough bark dig into your skin through the thin fabric of your uniform.

He throws his arm across your chest, making sure to press his elbow painfully into your shoulder, and slides one of his wiry legs between your shaking ones in order to keep you as upright as possible. You notice, bitterly, that he is able to pin you with little to no effort. His body molds to yours, and you can't find it within yourself to resist. The surge of emotion in your veins drains as you realize you are defeated.

His breath is hot and sticky on your damp skin as he leans into your neck, using his free hand to yank open the top button of your blouse. His touch freezes you despite the heat and you flinch involuntarily.

"Surprised, Granger?" he purrs, trailing a slender finger delicately across your jawline. When he reaches the peak he slowly unfolds his hand and cups your chin, resting his thumb on your bottom lip. _Almost tender_, you think. _Almost caring._

But you know better. You should have always known better.

You can almost taste his scent as it overpowers you, a heady and intoxicating blend of cheap liquor and aerosol. Suddenly, you realize that you're not the only one who has fallen.

A shadow passes over his face as he sees the change of expression in your eyes. "I always knew you were pathetic," he hisses venomously, wrenching his hand from your face and dropping your body as if it were poison.

You don't have the strength to catch yourself, and you collapse to the ground with a dull thud that matches the echo of his retreating footsteps. By the time you realize that he's gone it's too late to recover. The confrontation is over, almost as quickly as it had begun.

Your eyes drift shut as the darkness begins to claim you again, leaving you alone and shivering in a miserable heap of blood and dirt.

Right where you belong.

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A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated.


	3. Bliss

**CATHARSIS**

Scene 3: Bliss

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. : . : . : .

"How do you do it?" you breathe. Your whisper is so soft that you're not sure she heard you, and even if she did hear you she doesn't say a word.

Slivers of moonlight filter through the ancient windows, temporarily piercing the darkness swirling around the quiet dormitory, and the raindrops drumming softly against your conscience are the only response you receive.

Instead of speaking she reaches out a tiny hand and gingerly wipes your cheek with her sleeve, frowning. She sighs and you stare straight ahead, numb and transfixed. You hadn't even noticed you were bleeding... not that it would matter anyway.

_He_ would say you deserve to bleed.

Her hands rub tiny circles into your back, releasing the tension that is already starting to work its way into your muscles. You shrug her off, knowing you don't deserve her comfort. She is strong, and you are weak; you will always be the weak one and you resent that fact.

You turn your head to speak once again, but the words die on your tongue as your eyes come into focus on her grief-worn face.

Even the darkness of the dormitory can't fully dim the copper glow of her hair and you squeeze your eyelids shut, haunted. She can't help its color; she didn't ask to live with a daily reminder of the family she has lost. She could change it, of course, mute the fire to a nondescript brown not unlike your own, but you know she won't. She wants the reminder, however heartbreaking it may be. She will look in the mirror every day and remember all she has lost; she will be sad but she will also be stronger for it in the end.

She will always be stronger; she will always have that inner peace that you find yourself struggling so desperately to attain. At this point you would do almost anything to feel like you used to; you would do almost anything to forget.

Almost.

"I miss him, too," she murmurs, dragging you further down into the memories you try so desperately to forget. "Both of them."

It's your turn to guard silence, and she sighs at the blank look in your once sparkling eyes. She should know better; nothing will drag you out of this desolation.

"I know it's hard, Hermione, but we have to stay strong. They wouldn't want to see us like this, you know."

_If only I could..._

"They will come back," she offers, but the lack of warmth in her eyes betray her conviction and you know she doesn't truly believe it either.

"He's dead, Ginny."

Your bluntness hurts her- you can see it in her eyes before she forces them down- but you just can't bring yourself to care. Your heart lost what little hope it still clung to a long time ago.

"You don't know that," she whispers. "Ron could still be alive. He could have left with Harry after all. He could still be out there." You can hear the fear and uncertainty in the smallest tremble of her voice, and it might have broken you if your soul wasn't already so shattered.

"But you do," you state tonelessly, your voice unwilling to betray its emotion. "Deep down, you know."

"No, I _don't _know, and that's the problem! It's bad enough that Harry disappeared for whatever secret training they think he needs, without bothering to tell me where or how long he will be gone. And now my brother is missing, and they still won't give me any answers. So what, I'm just supposed to accept that two of the people I love the most are gone somewhere and may not even come back?"

"He's dead," you repeat listlessly.

You briefly wonder why you can't just let her be, but the feeling passes. You are torn and bitter, after all, and you can't bear to encourage her hopeful delusions. It would only hurt her in the end if she didn't accept it now. She had always been one to blindly follow her heart and not her mind.

"No," she declares. "You don't know that. I won't give up hope."

You can't even admit to yourself that you are jealous of her ability to stay strong and keep her head held high when the world is crumbling into pieces around you. In fact, it almost saddens you to think that your only true friend and former confidant has what you don't.

Almost. No amount of sadness could possibly drive you any deeper into your despair.

"I was there, Gin," you confess. "I was there. I saw him die."

She blinks slowly, wordlessly, trying to process this news. You can see that her heart is breaking, but you pretend not to notice.

"How-" her breath catches as she tries to control the sob that begins to wrack her frame. "What- what hap-"

"He tried to go after Harry, like you thought. I tried to go after him, but neither of us knew exactly where we were going and they caught us. I just barely got away."

She is silent again, save for the sobs.

_Don't_ _remember_, your head screams, as the memories flood in. You grit your teeth as you force those traitorous thoughts back beneath the surface, choking down your emotion as you struggle to bring your mind back to the apathy, to the safe place in your mind where the pain fades away into nothingness. _Just forget._

"Why didn't you tell me?" she manages, finally catching control of her voice. "Why didn't you tell any of us?"

You have no answer, as you technically weren't supposed to share even that much.

She sniffs something else that you don't hear, and you don't move to dry the tears cascading down her face. You don't even blink as she gets up to head for her own bed, leaving you alone in your inky despair.

She is the only friend you have left and you are losing her; you know it in what's left of your muddy, bleeding heart. You know she deserves better, but you will selfishly leave her behind; she does not need to know sadness as deep as yours. You know deep down that if you let her go now she won't come back, and yet you still can't bring yourself to move or speak; instead, you will yourself to ignore the sadness in her eyes as she sends you one last longing glance.

You are pathetic, just like _he_ says.

She turns to leave, and you are more lost than before.

The echoes of her words buzz and resonate through your head as you sink back and close your eyes, willing the darkness and the numbness to rise and claim you once again.

_Just forget_.

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A/N:Thank you for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


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